Resolutions
by December Winds
Summary: Long owed fic for Veggie : - "It clearly frustrated him that he couldn’t do more than sit there with her until help showed up.... But he could. Why was he just sitting there?" - Outsider's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Okayyy so, hopefully this isn't too ridiculous - I'm really nervous about posting this! Originally posted on psychfic for Veggiewoppa

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

New Years Eve.

The youth of Santa Barbara were living out the remainder of 2009 as much as they could. Attempting to live as much in that last rushed half hour of drinking and dancing as they had lived in that entire year. Dancing under the twinkling fairy lamps as the countdown began was replaced by drinking under flashing club lights.

Still, the twilight remains, even if there is just myself left to enjoy it before fireworks tear apart the sky like the bombs and gunshots ripped apart my life.

Though, that was many years ago. I doubt anyone will remember, but it was still too easy to be torn back. Another year of mindless killing in some God-forsaken corner of the Earth and a new one just beginning. How far into 2010 would it be before the fresh list of casualties begin again?

I used to wander the streets on New Years Eve, hoping to see at least one remaining scrap of proof to make me believe once again that it's all worth it. But it becomes harder with each fleeting year.

I didn't expect to be so harshly and forcefully reminded of the ever subtle presence of goodness on that otherwise eventful night of December 31 2009.

It had started normally. Shoving past yet another drunken girl in too short a dress, with half an hour to go. Had these people nothing better to do? I wandered into a generally quieter part of the city, too wrapped up in my hopelessness to even bother to continue my searching tradition, when suddenly a series of far too familiar noises sliced through the cool Californian sea breeze. Accompanied, of course, by a familiar jolt through my arm. As if I needed more convincing civilized society was coming to an end. My own cry however, was drowned out by another man's scream

"NO!"

Stirred by the amount of raw panic in his voice, I shot over to his general direction. There he was, on a grassy patch by the side of the road, silhouetted in the darkness. I could tell he was leaning over on all fours, almost curling into himself. Was he hit too?

Edging cautiously closer, I could see he was, in fact, leaning over another figure. A woman. Was she...?

"It's fine," I heard her grind out. Good, not dead then. "Just a graze."

I prepared myself to run in and help until I caught a glimpse of the man's face. The kid's face. What was he? Thirty? And the woman beneath him even younger. But that wasn't what stopped me. The look of raw emotion, plainly etched on his moonlit, youthful features as he looked at his companion.

Fear.

Pure fear.

With an edge of well concealed guilt.

Just observing them from the shadows made me feel as though I was rudely interrupting. From here, even I could tell it the wound wasn't too bad, but I knew somehow that the man would see it differently.

He placed a hand gently on her thigh, covering the bullet wound. Superficial, but enough to lightly coat his hand crimson.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice warbling, "This is all my fault."

She sat up, despite his feeble protests. "Look at me. It's fine," she said seriously. "It was a good lead. I'm a cop. I can deal with it."

They were cops? SBPD? Bust gone wrong, I guess, especially considering their lack of uniform. Undercover work – maybe they had been found out?

He ran his free hand through his hair in frustration, "He took my cell."

The blonde one smiled. "The one time you need it, huh?" She joked before muttering, "Took mine too."

At the man's apparent reaction to this, she hurriedly added, "Don't worry. Sooner or later, Lassiter'll come find us with back up."

I took it "Lassiter" was a cop too. Maybe there was something I could do to help after all, I realized, stroking my own cell phone thoughtfully.

"Santa Barbara Police Department."

I didn't realize I had dialed. That awful, nasal voice was possibly the best thing I had heard that night.

"There's been an incident... I'm calling for a Lassiter?"

The voice on the other end of the line seemed to perk up a little - I had apparently made her equally uneventful evening a little more exciting.

"What's the nature of this incident, sir?"

She was probably used to answering to drunk accidents by now, so I couldn't really blame her for her somewhat inappropriate excitement.

"There's been a shooting- I believe the two victims are police officers and one mentioned a "Lassiter"?

"Hang on a second..." The phone was suddenly silent as she confirmed the absence of two on duty officers, or indeed, the very existence of this "Lassiter".

There was a cracking as she returned. "We've alerted Detective Lassiter. Are there any injuries?"

I again glanced over at the two cops who were conversing almost silently as I replied, "Just one. The woman."

A sigh - she knew the victims, "What's your location? We'll have an ambulance and police back up dispatched immediately."

After giving them our location, I stayed on the line to ensure this Detective Lassiter joined the back up, though I promptly hung up when they asked about my personal details.

My arm was slick with blood.

I had forgotten all about that.

But it didn't matter - Lassiter was coming. That seemed significant, whoever they were. An ambulance would patch up the girl, the police would take the boy's statement and catch those responsible for this, and I would go home and lick my own wounds, so to speak. A nameless, thankless stranger. I deserved as much, anyway.

I sat and watched the pair once more - Blonde was sitting up against her partner, his arms wrapped protectively around her as she shivered in the breeze. Something was nagging in the back of my mind. The boy looked strong enough to carry her away from No Man's Land and yet... he wasn't.

His manner spoke of nothing but the best wishes for his companion and maybe even a hint of something more. It clearly frustrated him that he couldn't do more than sit there with her until help showed up.... But he could. Why was he just sitting there? Unless... I realized with a pang... Unless I should have reported two injuries.

10!

The countdown began in the distance from those sober enough to coherently count backwards.

9!

The boy shuddered in the wind.

8!

His head knocked lightly against her shoulder, and she reached up absently to play with his hair.

7!

There was a shadow coming up behind them. Lassiter wouldn't try to be so secretive, would he?

6!

There was the flash of the warm moonlight hitting the cold barrel of a gun.

5!

The girl shuddered a little - perhaps cold. Perhaps intuition.

4!

I was ready to move. To save these people in my own selfish need to end this pointless quest of mine by the end of 2009.

3!

The shadow was closer. There was a light click as the pistol was cocked. The boy's head shot up like a meerkat's.

2!

Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, "SBPD!" a furious voice roared. "Drop your weapon! Drop. Your. Weapon! Hands where I can see 'em! Hands!"

1!

"O'Hara!?"

Happy New Year!!

I'd found the ones I'd been looking for.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Good, bad, stupid? *runs and hides* Let me know what you think! All feedback is of course appreciated (:


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the feedback guys :D And thanks to my awesome betas - you know who you are *hugs insanely tightly*

The sort of calm chaos I had been observing suddenly cracked and shattered as the emergency services pulled up. An ambulance, two patrol cars and a civilian car I couldn't really make out in the darkness. At least, I thought it was a civilian car.

Navy blue uniforms darted off like choreographed insects around the perimeter of the scene, as one rugby tackled the attacker coming up from behind the two cops in a rather impressive manner.

I shielded my eyes against the sudden harsh glow of the explosion of fireworks and the vehicle lights that so rudely tore through my retinas. Squinting, I could make out a man in a suit, whom I assumed to be the renowned Lassiter run over to the two cops, crouching in front of the blonde girl.

They exchanged words I couldn't hear before she was whisked away by the paramedics. She seemed to be relatively fine, if slightly uncomfortable at the sudden attention. The boy stood up to face Lassiter – even with limited vision I could tell he was swaying a little. Lassiter placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

A pause in the explosions overheard allowed me to hear his muffled, if reluctant, query into his well-being. The boy shook it off; looking at his colleague as if he'd mortally offended him before suddenly pitching forward, only to be clumsily saved by the new arrival, who lowered him to the ground.

Out of pure instinct, I darted closer, kneeling behind a stout shrub as I peered through the branches. It was almost like I was observing role reversal – the cop was now slumped against the lanky new comer whom, even under the circumstances, looked a little disgruntled at the close contact. Nevertheless, professionalism seemed to overcome the apparent need for distance between the two as he started to gently run his hands down the cop's body, checking for any apparent injuries.

"Please, _Detective_, save it for the bedroom...."

... Was I missing something between these two?

"Shut up, Spencer." The Detective grumbled. His face turned from annoyance to genuine concern as his long fingers apparently brushed a sensitive spot across the younger man's – Spencer's – abdomen. He paled slightly as the cop suddenly gripped his arm, yanking his probing hand away with a sharp yell.

"Spencer..." His hands were back at Spencer's jacket, gently opening his jacket. I suddenly noticed the light stain upon it, coating it a slightly darker shade than the rest of the blue material making me suddenly apprehensive to witness the damage below. I looked away.

"Oh my God..." I heard him gulp and I opened my own eyes to follow his gaze towards the younger man's stomach. What I'm guessing was once a blue shirt was now quite clearly a glittering red in the moonlight – almost reminiscent of the red sparkly glue my son used to draw with all those years ago. It had completely saturated through to a point where I believe both myself and Lassiter were mutual in the disbelief that he was still awake and aware, let alone alive.

Shaking himself out of the initial shock, clinical thought seemed to set in once more and Lassiter cupped his hand over the still pulsing bullet hole, ignoring Spencer who tried to squirm away, making his discomfort loudly known.

"I need a medic!" he roared, but of course the ambulance had already left. I'd only reported _one _injury and I realised with a sinking feeling that yet more blood could end up on my hands. Lassiter was back to addressing his colleague once again, "You _moron, _Spencer! Why did you tell them you were fine?!"

He told the EMTs he was fine... to make sure that the girl got all the attention he felt she deserved. The realization was almost haunting.

"C'mon, Lassie..." he ground out, breath hitching, "Couldn't let... Jules..." he was cut off as Lassiter pressed harder on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the flowing pool of liquid ruby, flowing out onto the glistening, emerald grass. He let out a breathy cry as he tried to push very solid arms away.

"Let go, please... please let me go..."

There was something oddly shattering about watching him plead with the Detective above him.

"I'm sorry," Lassiter muttered, closing his eyes lightly in apparent regret, but not before I saw a small glint of... defeat? Guilt? Why would he feel guilty? It wasn't his fault that I told them there was only one injury.

I rubbed my arm absently. Well, I never was very good at math. One person, three people – what's the difference? Well this was certainly an interesting way to enter the new decade.

Spencer nodded, his already translucent face seeming to glare a fiercer pale in the moonlight, challenging even the pale glow of the moon itself as Lassiter appeared to place the majority of his body weight on the palm keeping Spencer's blood where it should be. He shuddered and groaned under the none too gentle touch.

"Alright, Shawn..." He gruffly soothed – yeah, oxymoron basically summed up this guy, "Ambulance'll get here any second now."

Spencer laughed humourlessly. Almost bitter. Shards of ruby glinting on his teeth to roll gracefully onto his already stained lips, "Make that sound like a _good _thing, Lass-"

He cried out again weakly as his colleague continued to press harder on his stomach. Rife sobs filled the air, the officers around pausing momentarily to throw sad glances in their direction.

"I'm dying, Lassie..." he said, in between soft sniffs, "Can tell. Your eyes tell."

Lassiter's eyes briefly flicked away, before looking down at him...

Angrily?

"Don't be such a girl, Spencer. It's not _that _bad," Man, this Spencer was a sharp one. The calm hardness in the Detective's eyes gave away just how _not _calm he was, "You'll be fine."

Sirens in the distance. About bloody time.

One of the taller officers edged forward slightly uneasily, looking as Lassiter as if he were a dangerous wild animal.

"Buzz!" Spencer greeted him with as much enthusiasm as he could possibly muster.

A pitiful amount.

Still looking slightly warily at Lassiter, Buzz knelt down next to Spencer. I'm sorry, but was Buzz some kind of nickname? Spencer looked at him calmly, his eyes too showing a different story behind the facade.

"How're you doing, Shawn?"

Shawn? As in... Shawn Spencer? As in that psychic guy? Looking at him now in slight shock, I wondered how on Earth I didn't recognise him.

Shawn coughed again. More garnet droplets. Buzz looked alarmed and raised a large, unsure hand, obviously wanting to rid him of the unwanted face paint around his lips. Shawn smiled. Genuinely smiled and reached up shakily to removed the hand from his face, but didn't let go.

"Doing that bad, huh?" Buzz stated light heartedly, still staring at Shawn's mouth in shock.

Ambulance had _finally _arrived.

"What can I say, Nabby?" Breathy chuckle, "Not my week."

Paramedics were running over, shooing various officers out of their way. I suddenly noticed the distinct lack of several patrol cars and the attacker. I'd been so immersed in this Shawn that I hadn't even noticed an arrest occur right in front of me.

Lassiter had laid him gently on the ground and stepped back to give the EMTs more room. Buzz attempted to do the same but Shawn's grip, a conscious action or otherwise, was unrelenting.

The medics muttered to each other quickly and urgently in a medical language I could neither hear, nor probably understand. Their backs blocked Shawn off completely until I could finally see him being rolled towards a new ambulance.

Buzz had finally been set free and was suddenly speaking rapidly into a patrol car radio worryingly close to my hiding place.

Lassiter had become Shawn's new permanent fixture.

My arm hurt.

I felt light headed all of a sudden and pitched forward into the shrub in front of me before my knees could find purchase on the dew slicked ground. Buzz's head jerked up like a meerkat.

Crap he'd heard me.

I didn't think I could stand.

Great.

Suddenly, he was pulling me up from behind by the scruff of my neck and span me roughly to face him. His generally gentle features were pulled up into complete rage.

He thought I was Shawn's shooter.

"It's not what you think," I choked against his grip, disoriented by the sudden change in height. His eyes suddenly softened and face slacked into a more natural expression, though he still looked a little tense. He stared at my shoulder in sudden realisation.

"You're the one who called Detective Lassiter!"

Grey was starting to appear in the corners of my vision as my head pounded like the stereos of one of the many night clubs I passed earlier tonight. Buzz was yelling something to one of the other officers and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a gurney next to Shawn's in the ambulance.

Lassiter turned to look at me and jerked his head in a sort of acknowledging nod before turning back to the younger man.

His presence was kind of terrifying for no particular reason.

Shawn Spencer on the other hand looked, if possible, worse under the harsh fluorescence of the ambulance's light. His breath was coming out in short, harsh clicks, fogging up the oxygen mask that had magically appeared, his back slightly arched and his eyes screwed shut.

What was with the lack of morphine?

Judging by the barely noticeable pink stain by his head, I was guessing a fairly recent head injury. Damn things.

He muttered something and Lassiter leant his head forward, "What was that?"

Spencer let the mask drop down around his chin, looking pleased with himself at the glare this provoked from Lassiter.

He was too faint for me to hear him, but he looked gleeful at the irritated noise that emitted from the Detective and the apparently well trained, resisted reflex to punch the man in such a state in front of him.

Spencer chuckled until the Detective shoved the mask back on his face, eliciting an irritated scowl.

A medic appeared by the head of his gurney, one by my own.

Lassiter was told to leave.

She said something that I was too wound up to really get my head around, but the small pinch and the warm, blessed darkness, spoke more than words ever could.

Ugh yeah. This felt insanely sickly but let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter - I have GCSEs at the moment and so my time's been taken up by that. I felt bad, however, for leaving this for so long, so I figured I'd just put up what I have so far. Sorry for the shortness and delay! **

**And even though I've genuinely not had the time to respond to reviews personally, as soon as all this is over I'll make time and I'll just say right here for now how grateful I am for all the kind words you've left me :D **

**... Ok this has to be the most serious, grown up sounding A/N I've ever written o.O**

**Enjoy (=  
**

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw. _

That grating pitch. That repetitive noise.

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw._

How could they stand it?

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw. _

That piercing shriek continuously tore through my mind stabbing the swirling mist with a more stabbing effect than any dagger.

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw._

Believe me, I know.

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw. _

The detective turned back to throw a glance at me over his shoulder. There was some quality in him that I couldn't quite place. Something.

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw. _

I vaguely realised I was staring at him, making him look a little uncomfortable. That infernal sound coupled with his face span with the mist causing my mind to form images of startling clarity.

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw._

_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw._

"_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw!" _

I shook my head, blotting out his voice. I didn't want to think of him now. Not after all this.

"_Nee naw, nee naw!" _

_A three foot bundle of pure, glowing energy ran in incessant circles around my legs. Long as they were, they looked ridiculous next to my five-year-old son. _

"_Nee naw, nee naw, nee naw!"_

_Sensing a potential catastrophe at the speed in which he was zooming – I half expected to see a dust cloud forming behind him – I threw out my arms and caught him, lifting him high up to reach my face. The sudden lack of momentum seemed to pass him completely as he continued to try and run in my arms. _

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa." I laughed, quickly alternating my grip to keep from dropping the poor kid. _

_He gazed up at me, his huge blue eyes meeting mine as he panted to catch his breath from his exertions. He produced a crumpled up piece of paper. _

"_Look daddy!" he squealed with excitement, "Look what I drewed!"_

_Smoothing it out best I could, whilst trying to maintain my grip on my squirming son, I smiled with amusement at what he had drawn, "A police car?"_

_He nodded frantically, "Yeah, yeah, yeah _and_," he poked a pudgy finger at the siren atop of the car's roof, "Look!" he declared proudly, "glitter glue! It makes it flash!"_

_I had to hand it to him, the idea was impressive. Tilting it into the light made the glitter sparkle as if it really were emitting a spinning, rouge light, "And who's this next to it?" I asked, pointing out the severely out of proportion character towering over the car. _

_He nuzzled his head into my shoulder, "It's me." He stated, as though it were obvious, "I'm a police dec... defect... det..." he screwed his little face up before settling on, "Defective."_

"_A police detective?" I corrected him._

"_Um. Yeah."_

_I snorted and my son shot me a hurt look, "You'll need a hat..."_

_His eyes suddenly lit up once more like the glitter covering his blue polo, "Really?"_

"_Uh huh." I dropped him to the floor and he followed me closely all the way to the dining room. I had to be careful not to kick him. I dug through the drawers where we kept the table mats before pulling out a police man's hat from a Hallowe'en party the week previously. _

_He gave a squeak of delight and beamed as I placed it on his head. _

_My wife chose that moment to walk in. My wife. Even with her face screwed up in irritation, she was still the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes upon. Pale and soft of skin with huge eyes of identical inquisitive cobalt of our son. I had studied her face, almost with fascination. Everything, from her dark, black curls, to something as intricate as her perfect, evenly spread eyelashes – long and widely set, highlighting her innocent and curious features. Sometimes, as she slept, I would study her – every last detail, down to the very last freckle lost in the light dusting across her cheeks – awed that she chose me. _

"_I just cleaned the carpet, guys!" she huffed in frustration, "Why is there glitter..."_

_She faltered and her face melted into a joyful beam that lit up her face as she saw her son in a policeman's hat, currently attempting to arrest me, appearing very threatening as he brandished his chosen weapon of a banana. _

"_And who are you meant to be?" she asked, laughter lilting her words as she knelt down to his level. _

"_He's a detective," I chuckled and he nodded furiously._

"_Well," Mary grinned, "We should record your first arrest, shouldn't we?" _

_She stood up fluently, her skirt flowing and she picked up the camera from the dining room table. _

_I grabbed my son and sat him on my knee, poking my head out next to his, our grins equally stupid. Gripping the drawing, crumpled forgotten on the floor next to us, my boy displayed it proudly to the camera just as the flash popped. _

_The photo fell out of the camera into Mary's waiting hand, the little detective making wild grabs for it. Mary laughed and handed it to him. He took it abruptly and scrutinised it closely, his face inches from the paper. _

_His fingers left little swirls of red glitter glue across the print, adding a splash of colour to the black and white memory. Remarkably symbolic to the effect he had on our lives._

_Red. Little did I know how much that would saturate my life in time to come._

_Red. Like the saturated gauze pressed into Shawn's abdomen. _

_Red. Like the glue coating Lassiter's hand._

_Lassiter._

_Lassiter._

"Lassiter..."

"Alright, Spencer. We're almost there."

Shawn shook his head with a grimace, "No I know... but weren't you supposed... to leave?"

Judging by the Paramedic's glare, I'm guessing he was.

Lassiter scowled, "Why? You want me to leave?" He started to extract his grip from Spencer's hand and prepared himself to move out of the way, but Shawn was having none of it. I wasn't sure if it was the desperate way in which he clung onto his colleague or the frightening half sob-half shout as he tried to sit up which made him stay, but either way he did.

"Sorry." He grunted. Spencer said nothing.


End file.
